


A Midnight Watch

by charmedcas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Hunter Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmedcas/pseuds/charmedcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the pale moonlight, streaks of light fall across his face, though the rest of his body remains in shadows. His eyes are silvery blue, that much Dean can tell from this far away, and he also sees that the man has a gun trained on Dean too. Oh, he must be another hunter. Just his luck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Midnight Watch

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song "Stardust" by New Politics.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees a figure move to duck behind a tree. On instinct, Dean whips around and trains his gun on the man, no, the _werewolf_ , a few feet away. He already killed one werewolf a minute ago, and he didn't know there would be another one. A friend of the first one? Then why hasn't it attacked Dean yet?

And then Dean notices his eyes. 

In the pale moonlight, streaks of light fall across his face, though the rest of his body remains in shadows. His eyes are silvery blue, that much Dean can tell from this far away, and he also sees that the man has a gun trained on Dean too. Oh, he must be another hunter. Just his luck.

Dean makes a show of holding both hands up and then putting his gun away before the other man can do something like shoot him. It's not that Dean's got a problem with other hunters, it's just that hunters like working alone, himself excluded. And they usually don't like when you gank their werewolf for them. Dean hadn't even known there was another hunter on the job when Bobby told him about it, so he can't be someone Dean knows. And besides, Dean thinks he'd remember someone with eyes like that.

If his dad was still alive, this would be the part where Dean waves and runs from the scene, leaving the other guy to deal with the werewolf's body, but John Winchester died two years ago, and so Dean decides to at least talk to the guy. 

The other hunter's lowering his gun now, but he keeps on holding it even as Dean approaches, a twig snapping under his feet. 

"Hey there," Dean says lamely. He wants to punch himself in the face.

"Hello," the hunter says, finally tucking his gun away. Dean's not sure whether he should be introducing himself or not. It's not like his name's the most popular after that Azazel nightmare went down last year. Before Dean can even go to stick his hand out in introduction, he sees movement over the man's shoulder, and this time, the movement is definitely too fast to be a human's. 

He's got his gun out, safety switched off in the same move, and he waits for the figure to come a little closer so he can get a clean shot. The man next to him is doing the same, if the click of the gun is anything to go by.

The werewolf bounds through the forest, creeping closer and closer until Dean's got a clear shot for the heart. He presses the trigger just as the man beside him does, the twin shots ringing loudly in Dean's ears. The werewolf goes down easily, and Dean releases a breath of air. The guy next to him leaves Dean behind to go closer to the figure, his footsteps silent. Dean follows him because technically, he'd been here first, and who the hell was this guy anyways?

When Dean sees the body, he feels a pang in his heart. The werewolf seemed to be a guy in his late teens or early twenties. Definitely not someone who deserved to die so early, werewolf or not. 

"I can take care of the bodies," the hunter says, his deep, gravelly tone shocking Dean for a second. 

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Dean nods his head, then realizes it's probably too dark for the other man to see his response. "Yeah, thanks." Maybe it's his way of thanking Dean for taking care of the first wolf.

The man offers nothing else to him as Dean starts walking away. Maybe he should say something else, turn back and offer to help out the guy, whoever he is. He doesn't seem like he wants much company, though, and Dean's ready to crash anyways. He needs a burger, a shower, and then some sleep, preferably in that order. So he goes back to his car without sparing another glance back. 

\- - -

The body in front of him's been through hell and back, if the claw marks litters across the victim's chest is anything to go by. Jagged, angry spikes surround the area where the victim's body has been ripped open, literally, which makes this the third body in a week that's been found like this, and Dean still has no idea what he's dealing with here. 

Great, must be a day ending in -y.

Well, he might as well take a couple pictures and send them to Bobby to see if he knows. 

He's got his phone out in two seconds, but before he can take the pictures he needs, he hears the sheriff's voice drifting closer and closer to him, so he turns around, only to see the sheriff right behind him, with a guy in a ratty trenchcoat next to him.

"Your partner showed up," Sheriff Edwards says, hooking a thumb in the direction of the guy. "Let me know if you guys need anything to help you out."

Dean's mouth opens and closes, but the Sheriff's already ducking under the yellow caution tape, heading back to talk to the cops. Which leaves Dean staring at this guy in a trenchcoat, who looks just as confused as Dean. Wait, fuck, the Sheriff said this was his partner, which means this guy might be an actual FBI agent. Crap.

Something about this guy is just a little too familiar though. Plus, the guy hasn't said a word to him yet either, still staring at Dean's face with an intensity that's got Dean shifting from foot to foot. Something seems to click in his assessment or whatever, because the guy lets out a breath of air and extends a hand toward Dean.      

"Castiel Novak," the guy says and Dean's shaking his hand without even thinking about it, but then he can almost see the metaphorical light bulb flicker on in his brain, remembering that voice, and Christ, those _eyes._

"You're that guy," Dean replies, letting go of his hand. How could he forget that werewolf hunt from a couple months ago, where he'd almost been shot by this Castiel guy. Another hunter would have shot Dean anyway, just on principle. But well, at least it's not a real FBI agent. 

"Yes, I do remember you too." Castiel looks back and forth between Dean's eyes and the victim's body laid out on the road next to him, as if waiting for something. 

Oh, right. "I'm Dean." He nods, then adds, "Winchester."

If Castiel recognizes the name, he doesn't change his expression at all, and lets his eyes drift down to the victim, a bare-chested man in his last thirties, with a missing heart. Castiel crouches low, the February wind ruffling his hair a little as he begins his examination. After a minute, the man nods to himself, and stands up from his crouch to be at almost eye level with Dean.

"You know what did this?" Dean asks, taking in Castiel's expression.

"I have a good suspicion, but I would need to take a look at the other two victims from last week to be sure."

"Well, I got a look at the other two victims yesterday at the morgue. Both of them had the same marks, same kabob job done to their chests," Dean offers.

At this, Castiel takes a step back from Dean and puts his hands into his pockets. "Oh, my apologies. You were here first and I'm interfering. I just read about it yesterday a few towns over, and I decided to check it out when I saw this crime scene. If you would like to do this alone, I can leave, it's no trouble." Castiel takes another step back, and Dean's hand flies out to catch the sleeve of his coat before his brain can catch up to what he's doing.

"Nah, I work better with a partner anyway. So if you wanna tag along..." Dean trails off before he can say anything else that's stupid. He hasn't really had a partner since Sam left to go back to Stanford, and the partners he has had were always old friends of John who thought Dean was still sixteen years old, and treated him as such. Which, no offense to them, but Dean would win in a shootout against them with his eyes closed, thank you very much.

Still, it doesn't mean that Dean needs another partner, even if it's just for one job. Besides, he's known this hunter for a grand total of five or ten minutes, definitely not enough to trust the guy to keep him from becoming monster chow.

"I can work with you, then. I don't have a partner with me either," Castiel says, erasing any chance that Dean had to take his words back.

"You like riding solo, Cas?" Dean asks before he can think about it. Cas raises his eyebrow at him, and Dean's reminded of just how blue the other man's eyes are. They remind Dean of the color of that lake Dean sees in his dreams sometimes. Not to mention, the guy's pretty nice to look at. Sharp jaw, a shadow of stubble, with tussled dark brown hair that makes Cas look like he just rolled out of bed. Even with the rumpled tax accountant look he has going on, the guy's attractive, simple as that.

Except it's not simple at all, and Dean can't even trust the guy yet. 

"You could say that," Castiel replies, eyes flickering up and down Dean's body so quickly that Dean thinks he imagined it. 

He licks his lips and nods again. "Right, well, I can show you my notes at my motel, and maybe we can grab some lunch or something. Not that I wanna eat after looking at that," Dean saying pointing at the collapsed chest of the victim.

"Yes, it would be better to come talk to Mrs. Walters later. It's only been a couple hours since her husband's death, and I doubt she wants to see anyone but family right now," Castiel says, biting his lip in a way that he _has_ to be doing on purpose, come _on_. 

"Right. You can follow my car." Dean goes straight for the Impala in a pace that's closer to jogging than walking. When he gets behind the wheel, he sees Castiel enter a damn Lincoln Continental, but he can't deny that Cas looks good even when he's turned away.

"Fuck," Dean groans and smacks his forehead against his steering wheel. 

\- - -

It takes two hours and a plate of a burger and fries for Cas to conclude that what they're hunting is a Lamia. It explains why Dean didn't know what the hell attacked the victims, since he'd gone into this thinking it was another werewolf hunt.

"I've only dealt with a Lamia on one occasion in the past, but that was when I had—" He cuts himself off, and right, Dean remembers he doesn't know the guy sitting across the table from him, not really.

Well, he's got a whole closet full of things he'd rather not bring out. Pun intended.

"And you're saying we can kill it if we have a silver knife blessed by a priest?" Dean interjects when Cas's eyes glaze over like he's lost in thought.

Cas blinks twice, then focuses back on Dean. "Yes, if you're willing to go to church with me," Cas says, with a smirk on his face, the second smirk in the last hour, and Dean thinks he couldn't have been more wrong about his first impression of the guy. He's not a tax accountant; he's a fucking tease.

"Let's do it," Dean answers.

When they do get the knife and find the Lamia, Dean leaves with a limp from being thrown around, but also with a new number in his phone. 

 - - - 

It's not that Dean's too scared to text him, it's just that he doesn't want to bother the guy. 

He knows firsthand how busy it can be as a hunter, even though Dean spends most of his time these days either calling Sam when he can, or in a bar after another hunt.

Well, he's usually at the bar to hustle a couple people for more cash, since getting new fake credit cards gets old after a while.

It's one of those times, where he's just finished up yet another game and is shoving the couple hundred into his pocket, when he hears that gravelly voice again.

"Would you like to play me next?"

Startled, Dean jerks forward and bangs his hip into the pool table. He turns to see Castiel with his lips quirked up into a small smile, an amused look on his face. "I think I'm good for now." Sure, it's only been six weeks since he's seen Cas last, but Dean almost forgot how good he looked. This time, Cas is in dark blue coat, with brown flannel peeking out from under it, and a pair of frayed jeans. Dean has to swallow before he can meet Cas's eyes again.

"You sure? I've been watching you for a while, and I think you'd be a fair match for me." Castiel grabs a pool stick and turns it between his fingers, raising an eyebrow in invitation.

_Stay strong_ , Dean thinks to himself. "Next time, I promise. You wanna eat something?" He's been drinking beers on and off all night, and he's pretty sure he hasn't eaten anything solid in hours.

"Okay," Castiel says, placing the pool stick back before moving to sit at a table in the corner. He must have been sitting here and watching Dean play. An unbidden shiver travels across his spine at the thought.                  

"So, this is what, the third time we've run into each other by accident?" Dean mentions when the waitress leaves with Dean's order of cheesy fries and Castiel's order of nachos.

"Well, I would hardly count us meeting in the woods as us running into each other. So, it's our second meeting," Castiel shrugs.

"Were you working a job nearby?"

"Actually, I was just passing through towns, going to a friend's house in South Dakota."

At this, Dean leans forward in his seat, trying not to look too hopeful. Bobby's never mentioned the guy before, but maybe he was wrong about the two not knowing each other. "Bobby Singer?"

Castiel blinks twice, tilting his head. "Yes, actually. Do you know him?"

Dean lets out a chuckle. "You could say that." When Castiel doesn't offer anything else, he adds, "Bobby's like my second Dad."

"Oh. I've only met him once, but my sister's met him many times. If she can trust him, I suppose I can too," Castiel adds.

"Sister?"

Castiel studies the table as he answers. "Yes, Anna. She's three years younger. She's hunting without me now."

"There a reason you two split up?"

"Yes, she decided she wanted to do her 'own thing'." Castiel says, using air quotes. "What about you? Any siblings?"

A smile lights up Dean's face. "Yeah, I got a younger brother, Sam. He, uh, he used to hunt with me for a while. Actually, we've been hunting ever since we were kids, but he went back to college last year. I still talk to him sometimes, though."

"And you're okay with him getting out of the life?"

"I'm okay with it as long as he's happy," Dean says. Yeah, he wishes Sam was still in the passenger seat next to him, but he knows Sam's doing what he wants to do. And he's not about to turn into John Winchester and tell Sam that there's no getting out of hunting. He'll never do that to Sam.

The waitress comes back a minute later with their food, and the next hour or two, they stick to other topics, deciding that family is a sensitive topic for them both. 

"So I know what type of gun you like, but I don't know anything normal about you," Dean says as they're leaving the bar. The chilled air of the night hits square in the face as he turns to look at Cas.

"What do you mean?" Cas tilts his head in that familiar way of his, which Dean does not find endearing at all.

"I mean, like, I don't know the simple things. Favorite food? Favorite animal? Favorite author?" Dean suggests. 

"Hmm, I'll have to think about it. Goodnight, Dean," Castiel answers, then begins walking to his car.

"Who has to think about that stuff?" Dean yells out, but Cas is probably too far to hear him. Huh, not much of a guy for proper goodbyes, then.

And a half hour later, while Dean's driven the block back to his hotel and is climbing into bed after a quick shower, his phone lights up with Castiel's name on the screen. 

_Received at 1:46am_  
_From: Cas_  
Burgers, cats, and Vonnegut.  
  
Dean smiles.

\- - -

The first time Dean slept with a guy, it was after his first solo hunt. 

Sure, he'd been high on the adrenaline that usually accompanies any hunt, and this being his first real one alone, he'd been really free for the first time. Sam had just left him three months before, and John was tangled up in a job in Wisconsin and had told Dean to take this one by himself.

By the end of the night, Dean hadn't had many regrets. He'd kissed guys before, and actually having sex with one wasn't the issue. It was John finding out, which he hadn't, as far as Dean knows.

But his dad's dead, and Dean has nothing to hide anymore. 

So, he sleeps with a guy the next week, trying not to notice how his blue eyes are just a shade too light, and starts texting Cas more often. It escalated from favorite things to hobbies to hunting stories. They meet up again in late April, when Dean mentions he's an hours drive away from where Cas is staying.

They spend the night in Cas's motel room watching a marathon of The Twilight Zone, and Dean ends up falling asleep on Cas's bed. When he wakes up, Castiel's already dressed for the day, so Dean promptly leaves. He doesn't ask where Cas slept that night.

When they meet up again three weeks later, it's only because they're both craving tacos, and Cas mentions that there was a good place to get them in Jefferson City. It takes him five hours to get there, but the smile on Cas's face when he sees Dean is worth it.

 - - - 

"Dude, whose text are you waiting for?" Sam asks him, reaching to take his phone away, but Dean snatches it off the table just in time.

"What? No one," Dean says, tucking it into his pocket.

Sam gives him a bitch face. "Dean, you've looked at that thing five times in the past ten minutes. And you've been texting on and off for the past hour," Sam says, taking another bite of his wrap.

"It's no one," Dean shrugs. He's talked about Cas to Sam before, but he hasn't exactly mentioned the extent of their relationship. Not that there's anything to explain. Him and Cas are just friends that occasionally text each other, like all friends do. Nothing to look at there. 

"Yeah, right. What's their name?"

"Sam, just let it go. There's no girl or guy to tell you about," Dean insists.

"Right," Sam says, but his face says he's gonna be bringing this up later. Great. 

Sam called Dean last week, saying that they were due for some quality time, and he was willing to come hunting with him for a few weeks. It was his vacation from school, and well, it hadn't taken Dean too long to say yes to come pick him up. He missed Sam so much sometimes, it was like a physical ache in his chest. 

He's about to say something sarcastic back to Sam, when his words get cut off when he sees a familiar figure enter the diner, still dressed in a trenchcoat, even though it's probably over eighty degrees outside. Cas catches Dean's eye, and walks over to him, his coat billowing out behind him. Cas opens his mouth to speak, before noticing Sam across from Dean. Oh, right.

"Uh, Sam this is Cas. And Cas, this is Sam," Dean gestures. The two of them shake hands briefly.

"I've heard a lot about you, Sam," Cas says, sliding into the booth beside Dean, taking a fry off his plate, then addresses him, "I'm sorry I didn't text back sooner. I was actually in the same town as you when you texted me the name of this diner to say their burgers were good. I tried to get here before you left."

Dean doesn't get to say another word before Sam speaks first. "So you've been texting Cas?" At Dean's death glare, Sam brightens up even more. "Well, Cas, Dean here hasn't stopped talking about you for the past week."

"Really?" Cas squints at Dean accusingly. 

"You," Dean says, pointing a finger at Sam, "shut up. And you," he points at Cas this time, "explain why you were here."

Cas goes to take another one of Dean's fries, but Dean pulls the plate away from him. Cas takes one anyway. "I'm here for a case. Vampires, right?"

"Yeah, me and Sam were gonna go find 'em tonight. Probably more than one," Dean shrugs. He doesn't want to say the words, but Sam says them anyway.

"Yeah, we can all go together. Another set of hands would be great," Sam nods. Castiel nods too, still chewing Dean's fry.

"Wait a second. If we weren't here, you were planning on taking a whole vamp's nest by yourself? Are you insane?" Dean hisses at Cas, who looks taken aback. Good.

"Well, I would have called someone in if I found there were many of them. I can handle a couple of them easily."

"Yeah? And when would you have called in backup? Before or after you were vamp food?" Dean reasons. Really, there's no reason for him to be getting so angry at this. Yeah, him and Cas are friends, and Dean would rather he didn't die, but Cas is a hunter and can protect himself. And yet, he feels fear creep into his stomach at the thought of Cas never texting him back, and then finding out Cas was dead. 

"I've been doing this for years, Dean. Believe me when I say I can take care of myself," Cas says, and they leave the argument at that. 

Funny enough, it's Dean that falls forward and starts bleeding from his temple, and it's Dean that almost gets fed on by the vampires nine hours later. Vampires plural, as in there were six of them here. He doesn't wanna think about what would've happened if Cas decided to go alone.

On the way back to the motel at midnight, Sam gives him a speech about how stupid it was to try to go for three of the vamps by himself, and then jokes that Sam's the rusty one here, and he's not the one with a cloth pressed against his temple. When Sam parks the Impala, Dean leans against the door, but he's more tired than in pain. He's gotten used to scratches and bruises on hunts, so a maybe-concussion is nothing to sweat about. 

"Alright, you think it's still bleeding?" Sam asks, easing Dean out of the passenger's seat.

"I think so." Sam starts steering Dean toward their room, but Cas appears out of nowhere, clutching his right shoulder tightly. "Cas, you good?" 

"Fine," Cas says, but Dean doesn't trust him. He gives Sam a look, then goes to where Cas is. Sam, bless him, seems to get it and leaves him with Cas.

"Sure you are. How about I patch you up, and you take care of me?" Dean offers. Cas nods, then turns in the opposite direction to where his motel room is. When they get inside, Dean's hit with the smell of laundry detergent and cotton. The air conditioner rattles on in the corner, but the room is still warm. "Is it dislocated or did you get stabbed?"

"Stabbed." 

"Got a first aid kit?" Dean asks.

"Yes, it should be in my duffle," Cas answers, taking a seat on the bed. The only bed in the room, of course, Dean notes. It takes a few seconds of digging for Dean to get out the first aid kit, but he eventually finds it and pulls a chair over to sit in front of Cas. He shrugs his jacket off too, already beginning to feel heated in the warmth of the room.

"Shirt off," Dean orders. While Cas carefully strips layer after layer off, Dean's reminded of the fact that he's never actually seen Cas without a shirt, but he brushes that thought aside when he sees the knife wound in Cas shoulder. "Jesus," Dean whispers, pressing against it with the clean side of his own cloth before getting an antiseptic wipe and wiping at the wound. Luckily, there isn't much blood and the cut doesn't look too deep, but Cas still hisses at the sting.

For the next couple minutes, Dean works at cleaning then dressing the wound, putting down gauze and then bandaging the area as best as he can. He tries not to notice how he can feel Cas following his every movement, staring down at him as best as he can see in the dim light coming from the motel lamp and from the moonlight from the window. It stopped being unnerving after the second time Cas did it, but Dean still feels exposed in a way he's never been with anyone before.

"There ya go, Cas," Dean says, sitting back in the wooden chair. "Good as new." Cas flits his eyes down to it, and Dean takes a second to trail his eyes from Cas's neck to torso, now that he's not afraid of Cas bleeding out through his shoulder. 

"Now you," Cas whispers in the stillness of the room.

"Now me," Dean says, his breath catching when Cas's left hand reaches up to cradle Dean's jaw, looking at where the blood has started drying on Dean's forehead. It stopped bleeding in the car, but Cas's fingers drift across wound gently, his touch reverent in a way that makes Dean's eyes sting, but not because it hurts. Cas works at getting the wound dressed, which doesn't need stitches, thank God for small miracles. After Cas smooths down the bandage, he leans away from Dean, and all at once, Dean misses his warm touch, even though the motel room's still too hot. 

He remembers what he'd been thinking about in the car, about what would have happened if Cas would have gone against the vampires alone. Cas, lying dead on the ground, a bite mark on his neck with still blue eyes staring endlessly into nothing. Dean's fingers shake until he can't take it anymore, and leans forward to pull Cas into him, burying his face in the man's neck.

"Dean?" Cas asks, but tightens his hands around Dean. Cas's skin smells like sweat, but it also smells sweet, like rain, and Dean presses his nose into it, grounding himself with Cas's scent.

"I just," he whispers the words against Cas's neck, "what if something worse happened to you, and I hadn't been there? Hell, I didn't even know something happened to you until we got to the parking lot."

"Don't worry about that. You're safe, Sam's safe, and I'm safe. That's all that matters," Cas says, his low voice sending a chill through Dean, even though he can feel sweat gathering across his collarbones.

"Cas I—" he sucks in a shaky breath, "I need you," the words slip past his mouth before his brain can catch up. And then Cas is pulling his face up, and kissing him, a soft brush of lips. Dean presses his mouth closer, letting out a whimper when Cas's lips slip open. His arms press into Dean's hair and pull him impossibly closer, tugging until Dean's almost on top of him.

There's a moment where the moonlight hits Cas face in such a way that reminds Dean of the first time he met Cas, how he'd pointed his gun at the other man so quickly. The idea of hurting Cas in any way is so inconceivable now, that Dean presses a hand to the back of Cas's head, and pushes down until they topple back onto the bed.

Cas's soft lips move from Dean's mouth to press against his jaw. "Dean, do you want to—"

"Yes," Dean says before Cas can finish. He knows Cas is asking permission, and Dean gives it to him willingly.

"Okay," Cas breathes, presses a small kiss next to the bandage on Dean's temple, before letting his fingers drift down to Dean's hips, clutching at them to flip their positions swiftly. He tugs the hem of Dean's shirt over his head, running a tongue over the sweat collected in Dean's collarbones when his shirt is off. Dean lets out a breath as Cas continues to lick and kiss down his body, twisting his fingers in the sheets at his sides. Abruptly, Cas climbs off of him, and Dean's confused, until he sees Cas unlacing Dean's shoes and pulling them off, along with his socks. Oh right, Dean forgot all about them.

Cas does the same to his own, and then stands up to pull his jeans off, Dean's breath coming out in a gasp when Cas pulls his boxers off too. Then he's arching up and pulling Cas back down, smoothing fingers down his back as their mouths meet again. The heat coming off Cas's body burns his skin, especially when Cas reaches down to pull his jeans and boxers off of him. When Dean's finally, _finally_ naked, and their cocks brush together, it's Cas who lets out the next groan into his mouth. Dean swallows it. 

"Here, let me—" Dean says, catching both of their dicks in one fist, brushing them together as Cas lets out a soft groan again.

"Dean," Cas whimpers, pushing his hips forward against Dean, increasing the friction between them. 

For a few minutes, Dean works both of them into a slow rhythm, Cas still pushing his hips against Dean's. When Castiel seals his tongue over Dean's shoulder, and sucks at it, Dean loses his rhythm, squeezing his eyes closed as he spills over into his own palm. Cas continues their rhythm, wringing out Dean's orgasm, until his own comes too, groaning out Dean's name into his neck.

When Dean lets his eyes open again, Cas is looking at him like he's something to be treasured, to be held and worshiped, and Dean shuts his eyes again.

"Don't look at me like that," Dean whispers.

"Like what?" Cas asks, but Dean still hasn't opened his eyes. He presses his thumbs into Dean's cheeks, holding his face in his hands. "Like you're everything?"

Dean's eyes shoot open, and he looks at Cas once, twice, before pulling him down into a quick kiss. He doesn't know what he feels for Cas, doesn't know if he'll ever understand it.

But when Cas pulls back and asks Dean to stay with him, Dean nods, cleaning up and then climbing under the covers, head pillowed against Cas's uninjured shoulder, his arm thrown around him. 

When Dean asks him the same thing the next morning, Cas does. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> [Rebloggable link](http://charmedcas.tumblr.com/post/142983654703/a-midnight-watch-on-ao3-deancas-huntercas)
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here!](http://charmedcas.tumblr.com/)


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